One Foot in the Grave (Carly Moore #3) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,74

said, pushing the tickets toward the center of the table. “He asked me to look into who killed Heather, but he expected to chauffeur me around. So he’s pissed that I didn’t allow that to happen.”

But it was more than that, and I knew it. I just didn’t like it.

Chapter Eighteen

Marco insisted on following me to his house in his sheriff’s SUV, just in case someone decided to run me off the road. I thought he was overreacting. I hadn’t poked any bears yet. Or at least I didn’t think so.

I pulled into the driveway behind his Explorer. Marco pulled in next to me, and we met in front of the steps to his front porch. He stretched his arms wide as I got close, and I went to him, letting him engulf me in a hug.

“How are you really, Carly? Because you’re not the type of woman to just pepper spray somebody because they pissed you off.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Give me a minute.”

“Okay,” he said, holding me close.

We stood like that for a long time—me clinging to him, Marco holding me up as the silence surrounded us.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he finally said.

“Are you talking about trying to figure out who killed Heather or staying in Drum?”

“All of it. What happened when you went to see Emily?”

The night was chilly, but I liked being out under the stars. “Can we sit outside for a bit?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling away and rubbing my arms. “Do you have a jacket?”

“No, but—”

“Come inside and change into something warmer,” he said. “Then we can sit out on the porch.”

“Okay.”

I headed to his room and helped myself to a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt from one of his drawers, then tossed my jeans, shirt, and undergarments into his washing machine and turned it on. When I emerged from the bedroom, I found Marco in the kitchen making two cups of tea. He handed one to me.

Balancing his own tea, he grabbed a blanket from the sofa and headed out the door to sit on the two chairs on his front porch.

I settled in my usual chair, and he dragged his seat closer to mine and threw the blanket over both of our legs. I took a sip of tea. “Teatime with Emily wasn’t what I expected.”

“So you mentioned.”

“Bart wasn’t there, so small blessings, but Emily didn’t know they’d found Heather’s remains.”

“Seriously?”

“I think Bart assumed I’d tell her, but I didn’t. I’m still not sure that was the right call, but Bart was using me and I didn’t want to play by his rules.”

“Sounds like a Bart move.”

“Emily was more open than I expected and shared things I didn’t even ask about. She confessed that Bart was a terrible father, even told me she’d considered leaving him at some point but she’d stayed for fear he’d maneuver to get full custody.”

“Yeah, that was a good call,” he said, lifting his foot to rest it on the porch railing.

“I asked her about Heather, and she seemed willing to answer my questions. She didn’t approve of her either. In fact, she was the one who suggested they pay her off. She even wrote the check. According to her, Bart was surprised she left town for so little money. He’d expected to pay more, and she sounded like an opportunist. Which makes me wonder why she took so little.”

“The way you said that makes me think you have a theory,” he said, then took a sip of tea.

“What if she was working with someone else, with the hope of making more money?”

“And who would that be? To what purpose?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that she left for a shockingly low amount.”

“Only she didn’t leave. She was killed.”

“True,” I acknowledged.

“What if she agreed to leave but changed her mind?” he suggested. “And the person who killed her didn’t like that she’d decided to stay. Who would have wanted her gone?”

“Likely a lot of people. Emily and Bart.” Then I added, “Probably Wyatt.”

“Did he say he wanted her gone?”

I gave it some thought. “When he talked about it this morning, he didn’t give an opinion about it one way or another. Just stated that she’d left. Or so he thought. They’d broken up by then. He said it happened sometime after he was arrested.” I took a sip of my tea and turned to him. “In the nursing home parking lot, he told me he was engaged